


Murder ASMR

by Anna_Hopkins, Chaotic_Smutty (Anna_Hopkins)



Series: October, 2019 [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Dark Harry Potter, M/M, Mild Gore, Murder, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Serial Killers, Slash, Stalking, Torture, Unhealthy Relationships, Youtuber Tom Riddle, livestreams, mutual possessiveness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2020-12-14 03:47:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21009206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anna_Hopkins/pseuds/Anna_Hopkins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anna_Hopkins/pseuds/Chaotic_Smutty
Summary: Psychology undergrad Harry has enjoyed ASMR videos for longer than he can remember. When he finally gives in to temptation and clicks on one of the morbid ASMR videos by infamous channelDeath Eater, it doesn't take long for him to get hooked -- particularly the "serial killer" series, and its intense recordings that play all too well into Harry's unvoiced fantasies...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SparkySheep](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparkySheep/gifts), [DarkkBluee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkkBluee/gifts), [Arualiaa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arualiaa/gifts), [Tabala](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabala/gifts), [skittykitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skittykitty/gifts), [NoodleFerrets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoodleFerrets/gifts).

> _Sparky's Prompt: Tom makes ASMR videos but they're all about killing. Like the sounds of knives slicing, blood gurgling and dripping, and cartilage cracking and bone snapping. And sometimes Tom talking in that low crooning voice. Harry stumbled upon them one day and just can't stop listening even though all his friends are super creeped out._

> _ Episode 1. _
> 
> _ A running sink, turned off by a squeaky handle. "Ah, I'd better oil that later," a breathy voice muttered in the background. Much closer, the sound of a block of metal being set down on wood. A little water poured onto it. _
> 
> _ The sharpening of a knife, slow and steady. _
> 
> _ "Hey," the narrator said in an undertone. "Is this your first day? Don't worry, it gets easier. Let me walk you through the process." _
> 
> _ Steady footsteps, rubber on slightly-wet tile. A metal door opening, tinny, like a gym locker. The low roll of wheels on metal, a drawer pulled out. The narrator took a deep breath. "Here's the first one for the day --" _

Hermione tapped Harry none-too-gently on the shoulder, urging him to take off his headphones. He repressed the urge to cringe away from the touch, pausing the video -- titled 'mortuary work, episode 1' in all lowercase -- and looked over at her. "Yeah?"

"Class is about to start, Harry," she hissed. "I can't believe you're actually watching that!"

"Well technically I'm listening to it --"

_ "You know what I mean!" _

Harry shrugged helplessly. "It's just a story, 'Mione. I keep getting it in my suggestions bar; eventually I was bound to watch it."

His friend rolled her eyes, glaring at the screen with no small amount of disgust. "I still can't believe they haven't taken that channel down yet," she groused. "It must be getting a lot of ad revenue with the media coverage."

Harry shrugged, packing up his headphones in their case. He was torn between pointing out that the channel was demonetized, and just keeping his mouth shut. He loved Hermione like a sister, but she didn't take well to dissent. (Privately, he was glad she'd given up on the political science track.)

He fiddled with his phone under his desk all through the abnormal-psychology lecture, resisting the urge to put his headphones back on and keep playing the video. He'd dumped a lot of his savings into his high-end audio gear; it was too conspicuous to wear now (compared to the tiny, tinny earbuds his friends all used) but he wouldn't downgrade for the world. ASMR videos were so much better with surround-sound and noise cancelling.

When exactly Harry had discovered the ASMR genre on Youtube for the first time, he really couldn't recall. But it wasn't until a week ago, when he read an Askreddit thread about weird Youtubers, that the channel had popped up on his video suggestions. _ Damn Google Analytics. _

He'd ignored the all-black thumbnail for ages, but eventually, curiosity had won out. "Death Eater" posted niche ASMR videos catering to the morbid, and "mortuary work" was apparently his longest ongoing series. After reading the Wikipedia page about the channel, last night, Harry had finally given in to temptation and watched it.

The first minute of the hour-long video had him hooked.

> _ mortuary work, episode 2 _
> 
> _ "Hey, welcome back." The rustle of a coat being taken off. In the background, the faint sounds of rain. "I was worried you might not stick around." More fabric rustling, and the sound of the sink running, hands scrubbing. "Not everyone can handle this kind of work. But for us who can, it's quite rewarding, isn't it?" _
> 
> Harry lay sprawled out on his dorm bed that evening, eyes closed in the dark, just listening. It was raining outside his building, too. The steady downpour blended in perfectly with the recording. "It's good to be back," he murmured in reply.
> 
> _ ... [37:15 / 1:02:07] _
> 
> _ Squelch. A grunt. Metallic clicking, and the squeak of wet glove against the metal tabletop. "Have to... move the ribs out of the way," the narrator grunted. "Hospital thinks it was heart failure. They want the heart for analysis." _
> 
> _ Another click, and a snap. "There." Soft panting. "Sometimes you have to be rough with it. They'll be cremating the rest of this one anyway." _

Harry went to look at some of the other playlists. "mortuary work" was Death Eater's longest series, but it wasn't the most popular -- that title went to "serial killer", and Harry's thumb had been hovering over the thumbnail for the first episode for five minutes now.

Murder had always... fascinated Harry, in the visceral sort of way most forbidden things did. He had read about serial killer psychology and pathology, though: it wasn't really healthy to indulge this kind of interest.

Indecision tore at him. Getting into this series when he already had an interest was something of a slippery slope toward committing a crime, himself. And yet.

He sighed, and clicked on the video.

> _ serial killer, episode 1 _
> 
> _ An alley near a restaurant; people were chatting, people were walking by. Snippets of conversation as couples passed the alley on a sidewalk. The soft, steady breathing of the narrator, and then, the near-silent tread of sneakers on concrete. _
> 
> _ Walking down the street, away from the restaurant. There was only one set of footsteps remaining besides the narrator's. An unhurried pace down the way. _
> 
> _ Abruptly, a gasp from the target, an inhale of breath as if to speak -- interrupted by the sharp _ _ snap _ _ of a neck breaking, and the narrator's -- the killer's -- hiss of exertion. _
> 
> _ Dragging the body along a dirt path. A vehicle unlocking remotely. Opening the trunk. Weight placed on tarp -- the slide of fabric on it. Closing the trunk. Trudging through the dirt to the driver's seat. Keys jingling; the truck starting, its engine a steady hum. Soft radio turned down to nothing. Tires over dirt and gravel, pulling onto the road with the click of turn signal. _
> 
> _ All the while, soft, steady breathing. _

Harry flinched violently at the sudden interruption of the video by his ringtone. Of _ course _it was Hermione calling. "W-what's up, 'Mione?" he asked, sitting up from his bed. The sheets had gone damp with sweat, he noticed, grimacing.

"Hi Harry, wanted to check if you're coming to the art show tonight. It's in the Charleston building atrium. Ron and Neville and Dean are coming."

"Uh, what time does it start?" Harry stared up at the ceiling.

"Seven pm, ends at nine."

He glanced at the clock on his phone. 6:43 pm. "Uh," he looked at the timestamp on his paused video. 5:03/32:14. "Maybe, let me see if I can finish this up first."

> _ [12:24 / 32:14] _
> 
> _ Pulling off the road and onto gravel. Slow speed down the driveway, stones crunching beneath the tires. A garage door opening, muffled by the truck engine. Pulling through. The door closing again, its mechanical groan made louder by the opening of the driver's side door. A soft chime reminding the killer that his keys were still in the ignition; he took them out, stuffing them in a pocket, and closed the door carelessly behind him. _
> 
> _ Metal tools clinking together in a duffel bag picked up off the concrete floor with a scrape of fabric-on-stone. The strap sliding back and forth on the killer's shoulder as he walked around to the back of his truck, opening the trunk again. Gathering the tarp together around the body. With a grunt of effort, hoisting it up onto one shoulder; it crinkles loudly in one ear as he takes heavy footsteps up a short wooden stair and opens a very squeaky door to the inside of the house. _
> 
> _ Boots on tile. The bag slides off his shoulder and thuds loudly onto a wooden table. Loose tarp slides along the floor; the killer crosses the room to another door, unlocking it with a key from his keyring. A lightswitch clicking. Slow, heavy footfalls down another staircase. The slide of a palm over a metal railing. The killer's breathing is louder, now, from the exertion. _
> 
> _ At the bottom of the stairs, another lightswitch. The low hum of old light fixtures turning on, forming a background for the drop of the tarp onto a metal table. _
> 
> _ The killer unfolds the tarp, pulls it off the body entirely, and folds it up, tossing it into a large sink behind him without turning to look. A sigh. _
> 
> _ Across the basement room (it must be a basement), past two rows of humming lights, is a large cabinet, which opens with only the whoosh of air and closes with a soft clunk of metal-on-metal. The killer removes a plastic tub full of things from inside it, heaving the tub onto the table. He returns to the sinks, washing his hands thoroughly with a scrubby soap and rinsing them off. The rip of a paper towel, used for his hands. _
> 
> _ The snap of disposable gloves, taken from a large box of them beside the sink. The killer returns to the table, leaning against it -- the scrape of jeans against metal -- and begins to fuss with the clothes of the corpse, taking them off in layers, throwing them in a pile on the floor. _

Harry glanced at the timestamp. [08:25/53:50].

Wait. That couldn't be right. He looked at the video. _ serial killer, episode 3 _.

He looked at the time. 8:58pm.

Hermione had texted him. _ Guess you're not finished with the thing, _ she mused at 8:12. _ What are you working on, anyway? _ at 8:37.

9:00 - _ Sorry I didn't make it. I'll see you in psych tomorrow. Say hi to Ron & Dean & Neville _

9:02 - _ Ok see you later _

Harry binge watched fourteen episodes of "serial killer" in two days. The echoes of systematic dismemberment rang in his ears whenever he wasn't paying attention to his surroundings -- saws buzzing, knives chopping, scraping, hammers smashing. Harry thought he liked the bones best: every snap, just so slightly different from wood. The crackling of cartilage under steady, sure palms. That was not to dismiss the wet tearing sound of skin from flesh, or the messy squelch of innards, or the steady drip, drip, drip of blood into what sounded like a large metal tub once the body was hung up to 'dry'.

It wasn't made clear what the serial killer did with the bodies after. Death Eater's videos always left off after the dismemberments, fading out to the sounds of scrubbing brushes, sponges, mops and brooms.

Harry subscribed, naturally, to Death Eater on the first day, setting notifications to show up whenever the account posted a video, status, or started a livestream. The Patreon link in the descriptions called to him; by the end of the first week, he'd pledged 20 dollars a month, upping that to 25 when he noticed the "VIP Discord server" perk.

The Discord was the first time Harry really interacted with Death Eater's fan community. It was a moderately-sized server, too -- nearly three hundred people in it, pledging anywhere from 25 to 100 dollars a month. (_ Is that a lot? _ Harry wondered. _ How much of that is pure profit? _)

Being in the Discord really livened up Harry's daily train commute, too. He mostly lurked, but he liked the memes. Perhaps the best part, though, was the_ livestream schedule _, which apparently only VIPs could see. Contrary to its name, the schedule wasn't exactly regular; Death Eater switched between series as he pleased, with only the time of day being the same.

As such, Harry was overjoyed when the first notification he got was for a _ serial killer _ livestream, set to begin at sundown.

_ Hey, I'm going to have to bail on dinner out tonight _, Harry texted his groupchat.

** _Hermione_ ** _ : Did you forget to do that forensics assignment? It's due on Monday. _

_ Shit, that wasn't even the assignment I had in mind _, Harry replied. (Truthfully, he hadn't known there was an assignment at all.)

** _Ron_ ** _ : See you in class then, mate. _

Excuses made, Harry turned his phone off completely, darkened his dorm room as much as possible, and joined chat in the livestream twenty minutes before it started.

The four hours that followed could be described as nothing less than rapturous.

> _ Contrary to regular episodes of "serial killer", which tend to take place in small towns or neighborhoods, the killer this time visits a bar. He parks his truck in the gravel lot; the sound of music playing is audible even from outside. A few smokers murmur greetings to him, ask if he wants a cig, but he must have shaken his head; he doesn't respond. _
> 
> _ Inside, the volume is just shy of unpleasant. It's crowded, and the clink of glasses and the dull roar of televisions -- one sounds like a horse race -- melt into white noise with the voices of the people inside. Someone -- the bartender, maybe -- calls out, "Hey, Tom! Good ta see ya." _
> 
> _ Harry hears the killer's -- "Tom's" -- voice for the first time, and it's not the breathy one he uses in "mortuary work", or the gruff one in "butcher shop", but an entirely different, almost musical, voice. "You too," he replies warmly, just loud enough to be heard. "The usual, please." _

Harry swooned. He couldn't _ not _swoon. In the #livestream-comments text channel, he asked if the serial killer usually talked during his streams.

The overwhelming response was that no, this was a change, and a welcome one. Harry wholeheartedly agreed. Some audience members speculated as to the legitimacy of the name: if it was a fake used for the stream, or if Death Eater was getting overconfident.

(Some people really believed Death Eater was a serial killer. Harry was happy to go along with the fantasy, but he didn't have the same obsession with Death Eater's identity that they did.)

(Some people were obsessed enough to try and track the killer, even, in hopes of bringing him "to justice". It was these people that pointed out that the horse race in the background really was currently happening.)

> _ Tom leaves the bar after a while. He walks around back, boots crunching in the gravel, to where several women are chatting with each other. One woman says something that makes the others laugh, and then they must be noticing Tom, because several sets of footsteps draw nearer, and there is giggling from all sides. Someone whistles appreciatively. "Hey there, handsome," one woman croons, "what can I do for ya?" _

The livestream chat exploded; this was crossing the line into actual explicit content. _ Finally, _ one user sighed, _ earning the 18+ rating! _ An argument over whether gore is 18+ got moved to a different channel by the moderators; Harry joined in with the rest in livestream chat, wondering if Tom was going to kill a prostitute. Several people wanted to know if it'd be before or after he 'used' her.

Harry didn't know which option he liked better.

> _ The sex worker is in the passenger seat of Tom's truck by this point. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, audible by the rustle of jeans and the click of the touchscreen keyboard. _

** _Death Eater is typing..._ ** said the Discord channel.

_ Holy shit, _Harry thought.

[**Death Eater**] Today at 10:05PM: Before or after, vote with reactions, :thumbsup: for before, :thumbsdown: for after.

Harry didn't blink before hitting :thumbsdown:. He was the third person; the vote went quickly in favor of 'after'.

> _ "Sorry," Tom says to the woman on stream. "Friends were messaging me. Had to tell them I'm busy." _

Harry's heart was pounding in his ears. _ This really is live, _he thought. He hadn't quite believed it until now.

> _ Tom drives them to a motel beside a highway somewhere. The hum of the road under his tires is enough to tell. "Room fifteen," he says to the prostitute, keys in hand. _
> 
> _ Soon, the motel room door is closing and locking behind him. _

Harry glanced down at his lap and realized he'd gotten hard.

[**Death Eater**] Today at 10:22 PM: Votes tallied.

> _ Someone turns on the television in the room. It's the horse races from earlier. _

Harry tuned it out, focusing on the other sounds in the room.

> _ Heavy boots tossed carelessly by the door, knocking against the wall. "I'm gonna shower first," the woman calls from further into the room; a fan hums loudly from what must be the bathroom, and the sound of the shower running is muffled by the bathroom door closing once Tom hums his acknowledgement. _

[**Death Eater**] Today at 10:25 PM: She's probably also doping up. You guys can't see it but she's got the shakes.

[**Death Eater**] Today at 10:26 PM: I think I'll snap her neck.

> _ The bed creaks loudly, overstarched sheets rustling as Tom climbs up on it. His belt buckle clinks as he undoes it. A low unzipping sound. Fabric shifting. In the background, faintly, shower curtain rings jingling against the curtain pole. _
> 
> _ Tom takes something out of his pocket and uncaps it with a plastic click. Listening closely, Harry can hear the bottle depositing some of its contents into Tom's palm. A slick noise as he spreads it over his fingers; then, a soft inhale as he takes himself in hand. _

Harry gasped at the jolt of arousal the noise alone had managed to stir in him.

> _ Tom's breathing gets heavier as the fleshy sound he's making gets louder and faster. "Yeah," he mutters under his breath. _

Harry bit back a moan.

> _ The shower stops. The humming fan in the bathroom shuts off. The television has gone to commercials by this point; Tom flips channels with his free hand, but ultimately just turns the thing off. _
> 
> _ The bathroom door opens loudly on its hinges, and the woman approaches the bed. "Thanks for waiting," she says, voice light and airy -- a little giddy. "So, how would you like me?" _
> 
> _ "Ride me for a bit," Tom suggests. _

Harry felt dizzy with lust. "I'll ride you," he breathed, leaning back into his pillows.

> _ For a while, the microphone is just picking up wet noises, and the mingled breaths of Tom and the prostitute. She makes some attempts at dirty talk -- "you're _ _ huge _ _ , Tom, ah --" and laughs a little. "Best I've had in ages..." _
> 
> _ Tom's breathing hitches; he must be getting close. _
> 
> _ Then his phone buzzes, off to the side where it must have been set down on the nightstand. "Ah, dammit, one second," he groans, and the bed creaks as he moves to reach for it. _
> 
> _ Typing. _

[**Death Eater**] Today at 11:11 PM: Thanks for waiting. Show's starting.

> _ The phone is set back down on the side table. A shift on the bed, and the woman gasps. "Hey, watch it," she chokes out -- _
> 
> _ Tom snaps her neck. _

Harry creamed himself then and there.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, forgive me-
> 
> CW: references to past abuse, which for this AU is similar to canon HP in how Harry was treated growing up

"Did you finish that assigned reading?" Hermione muttered under her breath as they sat down in Abnormal Psychology. "I know serial killers are  _ interesting _ and all, but that didn't make it any less creepy."

"Yeah," he said, agreeing to both. Professor Moody had given out an optional reading in advance of the criminology department's upcoming lecture series, as a motivator, he claimed, for more of his students going to see it. The psychology of serial killers, as morbidly fascinating as one might expect-

-and for Harry, unsettlingly relatable.

_ One very common factor in the childhood of serial killers is their loneliness and isolation from their peers [...] By the subtle rules of childhood society, they do not fit in - something is already out of kilter in their personalities. _

_ Many serial killers had a truly traumatic childhood. In the FBI study, 42 percent of the killers reported physical abuse and 74 percent reported psychological abuse... Physical trauma, particularly head injuries, is evident in the childhood memories of many serial killers... _

_ Dr. Alice Miller, in her book  _ _ For Your Own Good, _ _ maintains that the origins of adult violent behavior are found in a level of cruelty in the upbringing of children that is ostensibly invisible. Miller described a "poisonous pedagogy" in which children are cruelly punished while being told it is "for their own good." Such demonstrations of pain and punishment as being "good" send the wrong message... _

Harry glanced over his notes from the reading before putting his laptop on top, blocking them from view. Not everything in the book was applicable to him - he hadn't been sexually abused, or anything like that, and he himself hadn't been violent towards other people or animals - but some of it. Some of it had been true.

_ -other behavioral traits were reported in the FBI survey as follows: ... nightmares, 67 percent in childhood and 68 percent in adolescence; and rebelliousness, 67 percent and 84 percent... _

And some of it had made him think of Death Eater - of Tom.  _ Some serial killers, when they actually succeed in realizing their fantasies, stop killing. [...] Other serial killers, however, once they find the key to acting out their deepest fantasy, continue murdering to repeat the fantasy - they "level out" and begin practicing a perfected ritualistic routine in their homicides, from which they try never to waver and which always leaves them wanting more... _

He swallowed, glancing at the livestream schedule, and thought about that. Wanting more.

For the past year and a half, the highlight of Harry's day-to-day had been the train commute between his apartment and the college lecture halls: a thirty-minute ride in each direction that was just the right amount of time for studying, reading, or using his phone.

As of recently, that time was dedicated to Death Eater's videos, and the evening after the  _ serial killer _ livestream, when the recording was posted, a very tired Harry Potter was slipping on his noise-cancelling headphones and closing his eyes to listen to it. He rested his forehead on the metal pole in front of him, slumped in his seat, and let his imagination carry him into the scene:

> _ Running water from the sink and the scraping of a wet rag over sweaty, messy skin. Tom tosses it carelessly into the sink when he is done wiping off, tugging on clothes and zipping his pants. Lacing his boots takes a moment longer, measurable by the way his heavier breathing lightens. No wonder; he has just exerted himself considerably. And now, walking over to the bed, he picks up the prostitute's body and dresses her before hefting the deadweight in his arms and carrying her out to his truck. _
> 
> _ The engine is quicker to turn over this time than it was earlier; a squeaky belt is just audible over the ambient noise of motion as, after one more trip into the room to pick up his things, he reverses out of the gravel lot and gets onto the road again. Like every episode of serial killer, the drive is made in silence, save for slow, steady breathing and the rush of air past the vehicle outside. _
> 
> Harry was briefly roused from his daze by the train's arrival at a busier station along the way; the car filled up, people crowding in on either side in a way that would have given him anxiety in the past, but that he no longer finds he minds.
> 
> _ Slowing down. The garage door rolling up, then down behind the truck as it reaches a stop. The familiar pattern of getting out, closing one door, walking around, opening another; a grunt of effort as he hefts the body over one shoulder, keys jingling in one pocket while he opens the door into the house and descends into the basement. _

At the next stop, everyone who'd gotten on got off, and then some; Harry opened his eyes briefly to see that he was one of less than ten people in the subway car, most of them students his age on their phones. He closed his eyes again.

> _ ...The hand saw's high-pitched buzz as it whirs to life, cutting wetly through flesh until - pitch changing - the blade impacts bone, an abrupt, jarring shift that- _

-had Harry fumbling his phone and dropping it onto the floor, disconnecting the headphone cable, so that the video  _ continued to play _ into the open air of the car.

He grabbed it, frantically thumbing the screen to pause the video-

> _ -the wet squelch of flesh around the cutting-point drowning out a man's steady breathing, blood pouring like a faucet from the main body where the limb has been severed- _

-and plugged the cable back in, flushed beet-red with embarrassment. The movement made Harry suddenly, terribly aware that he was tenting his jeans (thank goodness he was wearing jeans instead of the sweatpants he'd thought about in the morning). Worse things had happened on a late-night subway, of course, but Harry still covered his face in his hands as he stuffed his phone into a pocket of his hoodie where it wouldn't fall again, resuming the recording.

He leaned forward against the pole again, willing his pulse to stop racing, and let the sound of Tom's bone-breaking hammer applied to the severed limb soothe him, snapping, cracking, crushing flesh and bone under the force of each effortful swing.

So distracted by the possibility of being stared at was Harry, that he indeed missed the one person who  _ was _ staring at him, from the corner seat just out of his view. The stranger gazed through half-lidded eyes, stretching out long legs that ended in well-worn, polished combat boots, and slowly, surreptitiously, raised his phone to take a few photos of his  _ avid _ fan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The life cycle of / one of my ongoing works: / "write it and forget."_
> 
> Short update that this is, I'm posting it anyway to keep from changing the plot any more from the original draft than I already have. ♥ and also to insist that this isn't abandoned, hahaha -sweats nervously-
> 
> Also yes that last line is indeed a reference to _Red Dragon_ lol I had that saved from the first draft of this story and refused to leave it out
> 
> Works cited:  
Vronsky, Peter. _Serial Killers: The Method and Madness of Monsters._ New York, Berkley Penguin Group, 2004.


End file.
